


A Binding Trust

by ChakwayAllTheWay



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s03e26 Scorpion, F/M, Fireside Sex, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 00:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18905509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChakwayAllTheWay/pseuds/ChakwayAllTheWay
Summary: In honor of Kathryn Janeway's birthday, I offer my take on how Scorpion should have ended.





	A Binding Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Mia Cooper for the quick beta. Any mistakes are my own.

Kathryn Janeway picks up a long, feather quill and dips it into the inkpot on her desk.

_Captain's log_

_Stardate 51003.7_

She writes in a flowery, slanting script.

_Three days, and no sign of Borg or bioships. We appear to be out of danger, but the entire crew is still on edge and so am I. Not even the calm of Master Da Vinci's workshop is enough to ease my mind._

Calligraphy had been one of the subjects taught at her traditionalist high school, along with mathematics, physics, and, of course, tennis. And, like tennis, Kathryn finds she enjoys the natural physicality of writing with pen and paper. After the week Voyager had with the Borg and Species 8472, she needs a tactile memory of home, of her humanity.

She takes a deep breath and watches the photonic flames dance on the wall of the workshop. She made a deal with the Devil in order to travel through Hell unscathed. Now the deal is off and she is back to being enemies with the Borg… and maybe even now her First Officer.

The hiss of the Holodeck doors rouses her from her thoughts. Chakotay cautiously makes his way to her desk.

“Am I interrupting?” he asks.

“Not at all,” she says, more brightly than she feels. “Just finishing up my log.”

Chakotay flashes a small, dimpled smile. “The old-fashioned way,” he notes.

“I wanted to get as far away from bio implants and fluidic space as possible,” she tells him, cupping her chin in her ink-smudged hand. “And this feels more human somehow.”

Regret tinges Chakotay’s expression. “I hate to spoil the mood, but you might want to look at this Engineering report,” he says, passing her a PADD, the 24th century version of an olive branch.

He explains it will take at least two weeks to remove the Borg technology from Voyager’s systems, and then they begin to discuss their newest crewmember, Seven of Nine.

“You plan to keep her onboard,” Chakotay states.

“We pulled the plug,” Kathryn replies. “We're responsible for what happens to her now.”

“She was assimilated at a very young age. The Collective’s all she knows. She might not want to stay,” he points out.

“I think she might. We have something the Borg could never offer: friendship,” Kathryn says, her eyes conveying the double meaning in her words.

She feels the air between them spark with tension.

Chakotay holds her gaze. “I want you to know that disobeying your orders was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do,” he says.

 _And still you did it_ , Kathryn thinks. She shakes herself mentally. _Enough of this_.

“I understand. And I respect the decision you made, even though I disagree with it,” she says. “What’s important is that in the end we got through this, together. I don’t ever want that to change.”

“Agreed,” Chakotay replies.

“Good. Well, I think it’s time we get back to our bridge,” Kathryn says and moves to leave the holodeck.

She makes it several steps before Chakotay stops her, his fingers gripping her wrist to the point of pain. Kathryn spins around to find his darkened face only inches from hers. She can feel his breath puffing against her cheek.

“You mean it’s good because I _agree_ with you,” he says.

Kathryn’s back stiffens and her face flushes with exasperation… and something else.

“Chakotay, I just told you that I respect your decision even though I disagreed with it,” she bites out.

“The thing is, Kathryn, I don’t think you do respect my decision,” he growls, “and I don’t think you respect me.”

Kathryn exhales sharply as if she’s been punched in the gut. “Chakotay, what are you talking about?”

“I did what I thought was best for our crew,” he says.

Kathryn places her hand on Chakotay’s stubbled cheek. “I know you did,” she utters.

“Do you?” he replies, leaning into her touch despite his anger. “Numerous times this week you said that I don’t trust you. That I’ve never trusted you.”

“Chakotay, I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did,” he barks.

They stand together in silence, their bodies taut with grief.

“At first, I thought it wasn’t a matter of trust, but then I realized that it is. I think it’s you who doesn’t trust _me_ , as a colleague and as a friend,” he says, his voice thickening with emotion.

Kathryn’s eyes widen. “How could you say that—after everything we’ve been through?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he challenges. “I know you, Kathryn. Just as the scorpion stung the fox, you use sharp words to bend people to your will. And when it comes to the people who really care about you—when it comes to me—you hide behind protocol and parameters. Then, the moment you find a way to get this crew home, no matter the cost, all those rules going flying out the airlock.”

Chakotay’s expression softens. “But you can’t help it; it’s your nature,” he sighs.

Kathryn stares at her First Officer, her best friend, in complete shock. A single, rouge tear trickles down her cheek. Wounded by his words—and their brutal, but inherent truth—Kathryn tries to pull away. But Chakotay wraps an arm around her waist and cradles her face in his hand.

“And I love you for it, Kathryn. Even when it stings, I love you,” he tells her. “I’m sorry. It kills me to hurt you, but I have to tell you the truth… about everything. I’m no good to you if I don’t.”

He lifts her chin and lowers his lips to hers. The kiss is soft, with a hint of salt, and seems to be seeking—or offering—forgiveness. It catches Kathryn completely off guard.

Without thinking, she opens her mouth to his questing tongue, which slides lovingly against hers. But then pride takes over. As her arousal and indignation grow, so does the aggressive nature of the kiss. Finally, she sinks her teeth into Chakotay’s bottom lip, causing him to rear back in pain. Kathryn grins devilishly.

“Must be the scorpion in me,” she drawls.

Chakotay’s eyes harden to flint. “Damnit, Kathryn! This isn’t a joke,” he seethes.

He scrubs his face with his hands and then drops them in resignation.

“You know what? I can’t do this anymore. I can’t,” he says and strides toward the holodeck exit.

“Wait!” a panicked Kathryn calls out behind him. “Please. Don’t go.”

Chakotay freezes. She can see his shoulders moving with each labored breath. He slowly turns around. 

Kathryn licks her lips.

“I do trust you, Chakotay,” she tells him. “Let me prove it to you.”

Chakotay eyes her warily. “How?”

Kathryn walks toward him, never losing eye contact. They stand together in the glow of the roaring fireplace. He notices she is breathing more rapidly and roses have bloomed on her cheeks.

With trembling hands, she unzips her uniform jacket and places it on a nearby bench. Then she reaches for the hem of her turtleneck. In seconds, the turtleneck and cap-sleeved shirt are off and piled on top of her jacket. Chakotay’s eyes trail over the fire-kissed expanse of Kathryn’s shoulders and arms.

“What are you doing?” he demands.

She raises a finger to his lips to silence him. Then she removes her tank top.

“Kathryn!” Chakotay gasps at the sight of her lily-white breasts encased in black satin cups. She gives him a sultry smile and crosses to Da Vinci’s workspace. Amidst the crumpled parchment and wooden gears she finds a long piece of leather. The strap is about an inch thick and highly flexible. Kathryn grips the ends of the strap in her fists and gives them a firm tug.

“This should do nicely,” she murmurs.

She walks back to Chakotay with a feral gleam in her eye and hands it to him. He stares at her dumbly, still stunned by her nakedness.

Amused, Kathryn holds her arms out in a gesture of supplication.

“Bind my wrists, Commander,” she husks.

Chakotay feels his cock harden at her order. His eyes darken to near-black. They stand, unmoving, for what seems like an eternity until Chakotay lunges forward. With one large hand he grabs Kathryn by the base of her neck. The other snakes down to palm the curve of her ass.

“Don’t play with me, Kathryn,” he growls. “This isn’t a game. If we do this, it’s for keeps.”

She gasps, her sex flooding with arousal. Chakotay captures her lips in a searing kiss that soon travels down her jawline to the pulse point on her neck.

“Promise me,” he demands as he nips at her sensitive flesh.

“Oh, God!” she moans. “Yessss… I… I promise.”

At her words, Chakotay jumps into action. He grips her delicate wrists with one hand and binds them with the leather strap. Once it’s tightly secured, he glances around the workshop. His eyes fall on an iron hook protruding from a nearby wall. From the hook hangs a whip.

Chakotay’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Just what have you and _Master_ Da Vinci been doing in here, Kathryn?” he asks, his words laced with innuendo.

Her gaze follows his until it lands on the whip.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Chakotay,” she says. “That’s his riding crop.”

The corners of Chakotay’s lips twitch into a smirk.

“For his horse!” Kathryn exclaims.

“Not anymore,” he tells her. He removes the crop from its hook and slides it repeatedly through his hands, testing his grip. He then places it on the mantle. Something akin to disappointment flashes across Kathryn’s face.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “We’ll come back to it.”

The dominant tone of his voice makes Kathryn’s skin tingle in anticipation. She watches as he stalks toward her, the flames reflecting in his obsidian eyes. For a brief second, she wonders if this is a mistake. But before she can voice any doubt, her back is against the wall and her arms are up over her head dangling from the hook.

Chakotay’s calloused hands roam freely over her body, from her wrists, down her arms to her waist, and back up her stomach to cup her breasts. His touch sends sparks coursing through her, like a quivering oak tree struck by lightening.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this, Kathryn?” Chakotay asks. “How much I’ve fantasized about touching you? About making you come, over and over again, until you scream my name?”

His admission leaves her speechless. She always knew he harbored feelings for her, but not like this. Gone is the patient puppy dog of New Earth, and in his place is the Angry Warrior like she’s never seen him before.

“Chakotay—” she sputters, but is cut off by the feel of his thumbs flicking her nipples through her bra. She watches as he lowers his head to her chest and licks along the edge of her breast. Kathryn’s eyes roll up into her head and her jaw goes slack. It’s been so long since someone touched her like this. Her body feels like its about to go into overdrive.

She hears Chakotay mumble from the curve of her breast, “I just thought of something… how am I going to get this thing off?”

It takes her a moment to realize that he’s talking about her bra, but then she replies with a throaty chuckle, “Untie me and I’ll take it off.”

Chakotay brings a hand up and pinches a nipple between his fingers, as if to admonish her.

“Oh, no,” he says. “I just got you where I want you. There’s no way I’m letting you go now.”

Kathryn chafes at his statement. “Well, what are you going to do?”

Chakotay leaves her hanging on the wall to go inspect Da Vinci’s workspace. He returns with a small whittling knife. Kathryn catches a glimpse of the blade before he slides it into his pocket.

“Chakotay, no,” she says. “This is one of my favorite bras.”

He eyes her with a mix of amusement and determination. “You can replicate a new one,” he says as he begins to remove his own jacket.

He notes her grimace of displeasure and calmly states, “I’m in control now, Kathryn. The question is, do you trust me enough to let go?”

Kathryn stares at the man before her—his warm, but guarded gaze conveying his intensely loyal and loving spirit—and nods her head. Those familiar dimples pop up on his cheeks, filling her with an overwhelming tenderness.

“Good,” he says as he takes the knife out of his pocket. He runs its silver tip along her cleavage to her heart and back up to her shoulder. The coldness of the metal makes Kathryn hiss in surprise. Chakotay slices both straps and then carelessly tosses the knife to the ground. It bounces and skids out of sight. Then he reaches behind her to unlatch the hooks.

Kathryn inhales his scent—a mixture of sandalwood, soap, and sex—and closes her eyes. She feels recycled air caress her bare skin and waits for Chakotay’s touch, but it doesn’t come. Frightened he doesn’t like what he sees, she peeks at Chakotay through her lashes. He’s staring at her in desire-soaked wonder.

“Oh, Kathryn,” Chakotay breathes. “You’re so beautiful.”

His statement sends a wave of pleasure through her body. Kathryn Janeway is not an idiot. She knows she’s an attractive woman. But to hear it confirmed by her devastatingly handsome First Officer, after years of being nothing but the Captain, is thrilling.

Then Chakotay is kissing her… and kissing her and kissing her. As she kisses him back, Kathryn can feel the proof of his desire for her pushing against her stomach. She lets out a needy whimper. Chakotay grabs her by the hips and lifts her. She immediately takes this as an invitation to wrap her legs around him, positioning his bulging erection right at her throbbing center.

He grinds into her, pinning her against the wall with his hips. Kathryn groans and arches her back, practically begging him to feast on her hardened nipples. Not one to refuse a meal from Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay does just that, taking them one by one into his mouth and swirling them with his velvety tongue.

Kathryn writhes in ecstasy. She can feel her climax building inside her and is somewhat mortified by the realization that she won’t last much longer. Her clit is beginning to spasm and twitch when Chakotay raises his head and eases her to her feet.

“What—what are you doing?” she protests.

Chakotay caresses her cheek. “Trust me.”

Kathryn’s head falls back against the wall in frustration, but she stays silent. Then she feels Chakotay’s hands on the fasteners of her slacks. He gently removes them, along with her boots and socks, until she’s standing before him in nothing but a pair of black, satin underwear.

“A matching set,” Chakotay says with a smile. “Definitely not Starfleet issue.”

Kathryn’s cheeks redden in embarrassment. “I had some leftover replicator rations a couple of months ago,” she mumbles.

Chakotay removes her underwear and stands up to look her in the eye. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Kathryn,” he tells her. “It’s nice to see you splurge on something other than coffee.”

She flashes her crooked grin. “Coffee and lingerie, my two greatest weaknesses,” she quips.

“That, and self-denial,” Chakotay says.

Kathryn eyes frost over at his comment. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Commander.”

Chakotay’s jaw tightens. “Ah. So it’s Commander now,” he says. “Kathryn, we’ve been on this journey together for four years now. I know how you operate. Constantly putting the needs of the crew ahead of your own. At first I thought you were being altruistic, but the truth is I think you _like_ it.”

"Like what?” Kathryn asks with venom in her voice.

“Punishment… for stranding us here in the Delta Quadrant,” he replies. “For ripping your crew from their families. That’s what you think you deserve, right? It’s what you want.”

Chakotay’s words lodge painfully in her heart. She watches as he picks up the riding crop and walks toward her. She turns her head to the side, breaking eye contact. It’s not a nod, but it might as well be.

“I thought so,” he says and steps alongside her naked form.

He traces the tongue of the crop up and down her arm and then circles it around each of her nipples. Suddenly, Kathryn hears a whoosh and the leather crop cracks across her thigh. She bites the muscle of her arm to stop herself from moaning.

Chakotay lands a second blow on her other thigh, causing her to yelp in surprise. She feels one of Chakotay’s hands on her hip and then her body is twisting to the side. She’s balancing on her tiptoes, completely at his mercy, when the crop connects with her left ass cheek.

Kathryn’s eyes well with tears; she hears something thump against the floor. She’s about to ask Chakotay what’s happening when his hand crashes into her already tender behind. The smack of flesh against flesh bounces off of the workshop’s walls and back to her ears.

A sob escapes Kathryn’s throat.

“Chakotay,” she gasps.

He responds with another wallop to her ass. The sob turns into a scream of pain and arousal.

“Is that enough, Kathryn?” Chakotay asks. “Or do you need more?”

She can detect sadness in his voice. Maybe even pity.

“Please,” she whimpers. “Chakotay, stop.”

As soon as the plea leaves her mouth, the whipping ceases. There’s a faint rustling sound and then Kathryn feels the feather-light touch of Chakotay’s lips on her bruised skin. The kisses move from her backside to her hipbone. She opens her eyes to see him staring up at her with utter devotion.

“Let me love you, Kathryn,” he says.

With that, the Captain’s walls are smashed to dust, leaving Kathryn, the woman, vulnerable but free to love and be loved.

“Yes,” she says.

His face alights with joy. They bask in the warmth of human connection for some time, and then Chakotay’s features shift into a look of unadulterated lust. His expression makes Kathryn’s heart start to beat faster.

Fueled by his passion, he buries his nose in her mound. After a deep inhale, he uses his tongue to part her folds and begins to worship at the altar of Kathryn Janeway. The pressure he applies to her clit is exquisite, causing Kathryn to thrust her hips more forcefully against his talented mouth. He grunts in approval and nudges her thighs farther apart until they are practically draped over his shoulders.

He continues his assault on her sex by pushing his tongue into her dripping core. Soon it is replaced by a long finger and then another. He thrusts them in and out of her, increasing his speed until Kathryn is nearly wailing with delight. Sensing she is close to the edge, Chakotay circles her sensitive nub with his thumb. The added friction sends her spinning out of control.

He keeps his fingers inside her, enjoying the sensation of her muscles fluttering around him, until she is completely spent. Wordlessly, he rises to his feet and unhooks her from the wall. He gathers her limp form into his arms and carriers her over to the fireplace.

“Computer,” he calls out. “Replicate Chakotay item Nu Epsilon 37.”

A pool of light shimmers before them, revealing a plush, faux fur rug. Chakotay gently places Kathryn on the rug and begins to remove his clothes. Once naked, he kneels down beside her to untie the leather strap and massage her wrists. Next he lifts her head and removes the clip from her hair, which unfurls and pools around her face.

Kathryn watches him with hooded eyes, admiring his masculinity, his tenderness and strength.

“Chakotay,” she whispers. “Make love to me.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Chakotay replies with a smile. He settles between her parted legs and lets Kathryn explore his body with her hands. His muscles are smooth and firm and his skin is surprisingly soft.

She kisses his tattoo, the corner of his mouth, and then the left side of his chest, just above his heart. The quiet gesture is food to Chakotay’s love-worn soul. He tips her face up to his and expresses his thanks with a passionate kiss. As their tongues begin to dance, Kathryn digs her nails into his toned ass. She slips a hand between them to stroke his rock-hard shaft.

“Oh, Spirits!” Chakotay pants.

She latches a leg over his hip and uses it to guide him into her body. She is tight—incredibly tight—so it takes several pushes before Chakotay can slide all the way home. Once he’s in, they both moan in absolute pleasure.

“Kathryn, I don’t think I can last very long,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

“I know,” she tells him. “It’s been a long time for me, too. Just let go, Chakotay. Take what you need.”

Chakotay begins to move inside her, pumping his hips in a sure and steady rhythm. Kathryn loves the sensation of his shaft stretching and filling her and wraps her other leg around him to give him better access.

He continues to pound into her, the sounds of their lovemaking joining the crackling of the holographic fire. The new angle pushes the head of Chakotay’s cock against Kathryn’s G-spot.

“Fuuuck! Chakotaaay!” she screams as another orgasm overtakes her.

“Kathrynnn!” Chakotay shouts in reply. His body goes rigid, and then Kathryn feels his warmth flooding her womb. They lay on the rug, riding the aftershocks, until Chakotay feels wetness against his shoulder.

“Kathryn?” he gasps. “Did I hurt you?”

Through tears, she shakes her head.

“No, Chakotay. No,” she tells him. “You’ve made me feel human again.”

Stunned by her confession, he wraps her in a fierce hug.

“I told you, Kathryn: You’re never alone,” he says. “We’re in this together. Now more than ever.”

Kathryn’s lips quirk into a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“But I’m afraid, Chakotay,” she whispers.

“Of the Borg? Of Species 8472?” he asks, wiping tears from her face. “We made it through this week despite all odds. And I know, under your command, we can do it again.”

Kathryn worries her lip with her teeth.

“No. I’m afraid that my humanity will make me weak,” she explains. “Out here in the Delta Quadrant, I have to be the scorpion in order to survive. In order to keep us safe.”

“Oh, Kathryn,” Chakotay says. “Your humanity doesn’t make you weak. It makes you wise and brave. Like you said, we have something the Borg and Species 8472 could never have.”

“Friendship?” she asks, incredulity clear in her voice.

“Love,” he answers. “That’s what makes us strong. That’s what will help us survive. The crew of Voyager isn’t a collective obsessed with purity or perfection. We’re a family, and families protect each other.”

Kathryn chuckles underneath him. “I’m not the wise warrior, Chakotay. You are.”

“We both are, Kathryn,” he says. “We both are.”

Slowly they make their way up from the floor and help each other dress. As they’re getting ready to leave the holodeck, Chakotay takes Kathryn’s hand in his.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he says.

Kathryn looks at him somberly, and for a moment he’s terrified she’s going to rebuff him. But then that impish grin graces her lips.

“You know, I am rather hungry,” she tells him. “I could do with something other than coffee and sex.”

Chakotay lets out a laugh.

“Sounds good to me,” he says, placing a hand at the small of her back.

“Me, too,” she replies. “Computer, end program.”


End file.
